


Khalyava

by Bleed_Peroxide



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ash Accepts Blanca's Offer, Ash Lynx Lives, Banana Fish Reverse Big Bang, COME GET YOUR BLASH, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 13:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19769482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleed_Peroxide/pseuds/Bleed_Peroxide
Summary: Blanca ran a thumb over petal-pink lips, instead drinking in how it made Ash’s breath catch in his throat. Ash’s eyes darkened with a yearning that threatened to swallow them both. That pull was there, they knew… but while Blanca longed to swim in its depths, Ash could scarcely permit himself to consider it. Blanca once likened it to the waters of the Caribbean that provided relief and recreation; Ash had only smiled rather sadly at the metaphor.“You don’t to pretend around me,kotyonok,” Blanca said quietly, carding a hand through golden locks before resting them on Ash’s shoulder. “I would not ask anything of you that you find needlessly unpleasant. You need only enter the waters when you feel safe doing so.”A collaboration with the wonderful Ayden (@SoSkepticalFox on Twitter) for the Banana Fish Reverse Big Bang. ♥ In this fic, Ash decides to take Blanca up on his offer to seek peace in the Caribbean.... and perhaps a bit more than that, too.





	Khalyava

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that text that is entirely in _italics_ is spoken in Russian.

The smell of sea salt clung to balmy air like perfume. There was a peculiar sense of timelessness to the Caribbean that contrasted sharply with the manic pace of the city. Time was only made evident in the way sunset dyed the water in brilliant shades of orange, settling into the ocean like one might settle into the bath. Save for the occasional call of seagulls or waves crashing against the shoreline, there was a pervasive quiet, a stillness, that Ash had once seen as the portend to danger. 

Once upon a time, he had entertained the notion that the same ocean might carry the keys to his salvation. His brother had read him fairy tales of seal-children, of mothers condemned to spend seven years in the water before they can return to the human world again. When his father “forgot” to turn on the power, leaving Griffin and him to huddle beneath threadbare blankets, Ash had comforted himself with the idea that his mother had left with nobler intentions. 

Once upon a time, a boy enchanted by fairy tales became a boy haunted by nightmares. No longer inviting, the scent of the ocean brought back memories of tobacco-stained breath and stained bedsheets. 

“Everything alright, kitten?” a familiar voice asked warmly, calloused fingers brushing the bangs from Ash’s face before gently cupping the curve of his cheek. 

Two syllables and some of the building tension seemed to fade from Ash’s limbs. It still surprised Blanca at times, how a word that Ash said felt like greasy fingers on his flesh could elicit comfort in another man's voice. 

True to his namesake, he could have purred. Ash settled instead for leaning into the heat of Blanca’s palm, letting his eyes slip shut. 

“Just thinking,” the blonde answered simply. “Sometimes the ocean smells like paradise. Sometimes it just reeks of dead fish.”

“And today?” 

Ash pressed a kiss into the older man’s palm. “Sunscreen. Rum with coconut creme. Aged books. Reading Hemingway again?” 

Shaking his head, Blanca held up the book in question. “Brontë, actually.” 

“Which one? There were three sisters, weren’t there?” 

Ash peered around Blanca’s hand, trying to see the name of the author in question. As was his way, a wicked smirk blossomed on the older man’s lips as he shuffled the book out of sight… which only widened as Ash’s own set into an irritated pout. 

“Whatever. I bet it’s just some nasty book with a fake cover, you dirty old man.”

Blanca gave Ash’s cheeks a gentle squeeze, just enough to make the other’s lips pucker comically. 

“I thought the Caribbean was supposed to help you relax, yet I see you still have quite the tongue on you.” 

“Care to see for yourself?” 

With anyone else, Blanca would have enjoyed the banter and enjoyed the chance to take them up on such an offer. But Ash was a beautiful little pierrot, his theatrics captivating and hollow. It was evident in the way his eyes failed to capture the humor of his words, voice oddly flat despite the way it lilted just so.

Blanca ran a thumb over petal-pink lips, instead drinking in how it made Ash’s breath catch in his throat. Ash’s eyes darkened with a yearning that threatened to swallow them both. That pull was there, they knew… but while Blanca longed to swim in its depths, Ash could scarcely permit himself to consider it. Blanca once likened it to the waters of the Caribbean that provided relief and recreation; Ash had only smiled rather sadly at the metaphor. 

“You don’t have to pretend around me, _kotyonok_ ,” Blanca said quietly, carding a hand through golden locks before resting them on Ash’s shoulder. “I would not ask anything of you that you find needlessly unpleasant. You need only enter the waters when you feel safe doing so.” 

He could tell by the way Ash’s lips quirked that he was weighing his options in how to respond.

In English, Ash could only be honest when there was a comforting veil of symbolism. It was safer to allude to filthy words such as  _desire_ with something clean - as if the act of metaphor could purify the words themselves until they didn’t feel like tar on his tongue.

In Russian, Ash sought refuge from his mother tongue entirely when metaphor failed. English was loaded with landmines and corruption; Russian lacked an old man’s gravelly voice lending vile flavors to innocuous words. 

Ash stirred his drink idly before taking a sip, as much for liquid courage as it was to collect his thoughts. “ _There’s_ _this duality to it. I know on a logical level that these feelings, this constant wanting…. we both feel that way. That it’s not necessarily dirty if that… erm, desire, is mutual. And yet…”_

Humming thoughtfully, Blanca prompted him gently to continue. _“And_ _yet…?”_

Ash retreated back slightly, seemingly embarrassed by his own honesty. “I can’t stop seeing storm clouds over the horizon. Danger, danger. I’m going to drown if I’m not careful. The moment I lie back and simply enjoy it, a shark is gonna come out and eat me alive.” 

Unsure if Ash’s choice of wording was intentionally suggestive, Blanca offered sanctuary. _“I_ _would not mind spoiling you -_ _‘letting_ _you lie back and enjoy it’. Not everyone gives pleasure simply to rack up debt.”_

_“_ It makes me feel like a… a…” Ash glanced to the side, tapping his fingers against his thighs as he tried to pull the right analogy out before settling for candor. “ _Like_ _a khalyavnik. I’ve done nothing to earn that kind of treatment. I wouldn’t know how to be able to relax, and that wouldn’t be fun for you, I imagine, trying to have sex with someone that can’t appreciate it.”_

“I’m not just talking about sex. Pleasure comes in many forms, all of which you seem convinced that you don’t deserve.” 

Ash swept his hand in front of him, gesturing at the sunset as it sank into the horizon. “I’m in the Caribbean sippin’ a pina colada, _solntse_. I’m not exactly living like a nun.” 

“But if you were honest…. you could think of many other things that you’d enjoy doing if they weren’t so ‘selfish’, yes?” 

Ash said nothing, biting his lip as though damming his words behind them. 

Blanca took the drink gently from Ash’s hands, ensuring he had the boy’s full attention. He marveled how small Ash’s hands felt in his own, how much contradiction they seemed to embody. The blond’s hands were beautiful, slender and delicate like those of a pianist… yet riddled with scars from a lifetime of fighting. Ash’s gaze shifted from their joined hands to Blanca’s, cheeks slowly turning pink in a rare show of bashfulness. 

“I care for you, deeply. I want you to be happy. There is nothing selfish or childish for seeking pleasure, so long as what you seek does not rob a man of his own right to be happy. And I can assure you that  _nothing_ you ask of me would do so.” 

Ash tried to twist his lips in an arrogant smirk, though the effect was somewhat dampened by the lingering flush in his face. “Even if it’s stupid shit a girl would want? So-called ‘dream dates’? You’re too old for that stuff.” 

“If it _is_ a ‘dream date’, it’s only because of this idea that spoiling someone is considered embarrassing. Can’t say I’ve ever agreed with that idea.”

Giving Blanca’s hands a light squeeze, Ash’s expression turned downright angelic. “Are you saying you’d actually do it?”

Pressing his lips to Ash’s knuckles, Blanca answered, “I’d pluck the stars from the sky if you asked me to, _kotyonok._ You seem convinced that spoiling you is a burden instead of a pleasure.”

“Is it?” It was clearly a taunt, yet beneath it…. Blanca could hear a note of naked yearning, as if the idea was a kind of decadence Ash had scarcely permitted himself to imagine. 

“Would I lie about such things?” 

_“No… no, you wouldn’t. You’ve never lied to me when it mattered,”_ Ash replied fondly. _“There’s_ _a part of me that still can’t shake the feeling that I’m acting like a spoiled child._ _‘Let’s_ _dine and dance!’ Let’s do this! Let’s do that! And then I feel stupid because it’s such a dumb thing to get giddy over.”_

That was an unexpected admission, and already a plan was beginning to form in Blanca’s mind. Given what he knew of Ash’s tastes, Blanca had an idea of what would make that tender part of his heart sing.

It was easy to forget that the man Ash admired was not a killer or a business mogul, but a gentle-hearted poet ill-suited for war. Sentiment seemed to be in both men’s souls, though it was perhaps both blessing and bane that Ash’s innate tenderness had been crusted over in stale blood. 

Blanca tried not to think of how much of it was because of him. 

_“The night is still young. Is there a place in particular you’d like to go?”_

A hopeful look, a smile like the first light of dawn and made those jade eyes glitter like jewels.

_“Well…. what would you say about dinner in bed….?”_

* * *

Staring at the name on the entryway, Blanca had to stifle his disappointed reaction. The place looked rather unremarkable, with simple terra-cotta tiles and white architecture that Blanca felt was more appropriate for a cheap, family-run restaurant than a lauded gem of the Caribbean. 

However, Ash had asked specifically for this restaurant. Blanca settled instead for simply blinking in surprise and parroted the peculiar title. 

“The Screaming Eagle…? I’ll admit I’m a bit surprised. I tried to find some pictures, but I didn’t see anything but pictures of birds in various states of distress. Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Well, yeah. You have to add the location,  _solntse._ I guess you really are an old man."

Despite the taunt, the older man couldn’t help but smile - he’d never tire of how sweet Ash’s voice sounded, peppered in the softer words of Blanca’s native tongue. He was about to follow Ash’s advice when a hand was placed gently over his. 

“You want it to be a surprise, don’t you?” Ash asked, eyes glinting with excitement. It was the glee one might expect of a child, and far be it from Blanca to steal it from him. 

Blanca dutifully put his phone in his pocket and let Ash guide him by the hand. The front of the restaurant was a simple patio with sets of tables and chairs beneath the metal awning, the small lanterns on each casting the patio in a soft golden glow. It seemed this was made for patrons to visit later in the day, as the enchanting effect of the flames made usually stark colors warm and inviting. 

However, it was when they went through the front doors that Blanca understood immediately why Ash was so enchanted by the place. 

The outside was almost deceptively spartan compared to the inside. Where the outside was right at home with the simple aesthetic of the islands, the interior was like stumbling into a dream. The tables and chairs were all powder white, decorated with a simple candle. The sheers draping from the ceiling softened a typically austere visual into something almost divine. In sharp contrast, the bar near the wall was bathed in lush red light. Next to the bar was another wall of drapes, but just beyond that on a raised tier…

“Beds?” Behind the sheers, there were rows of soft white beds bathed in soft purple light, obscured from one another by sheer drapes between and in front of them. He could see the silhouettes of couples obscured by the drapes, granting those within a bubble of privacy amidst the music and bustle of the restaurant.

Blanca felt his own heart flutter in his chest. Gloriously decadent even by Blanca’s standards, he could see a bit of why Ash felt rather self-conscious suggesting it. The idea, the ripeness of possibilities, was was enough to stir the longings of a widowed Soviet hound… so Blanca could only imagine the way it whispered to Ash’s own longings.

It was perfect. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Ash crowed, flashing Blanca a proud grin. 

“You should trust your own judgments more. This is fantastic.” 

“Like I said, dinner in bed. Plus they have these curtain things, so you don’t have people gawking at you while you eat.” 

Rolling his eyes, Blanca shook his head and countered, “I’m fairly sure that wasn’t the sole reasoning behind them. Now, are we going to gawk at everything or can we go find a seat… well, _bed_ , I suppose. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.” 

By way of answering, Ash took a deep breath and turned on the charm. It was a fascinating and unsettling transformation, his natural slouch subtly unfolding into a ballerina’s poise. He didn’t so much approach as alight the podium, no doubt surprising the bespectacled waiter as he asked in honeyed tones, “I know it’s a bit late, but I don’t suppose you have a reservation open for one of the beds, do you?” 

The waiter glanced back and forth between Blanca and the fae being hovering near the podium. Blanca was vividly reminded of the way Eiji had looked so many years ago, endearingly handsome yet clearly out of place like a rabbit among wolves. Both boys had no clue what precisely they were up against. 

“We’re not picky about the spot, sweetheart,” Ash cooed. “Don’t worry yourself about that.” 

Fumbling the list on his hands, the waiter scanned down and stammered, “W-well, we did have a cancellation at the last m-moment, so if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes…” 

“Not at all!” Ash clapped his hands together, seeming beside himself delight. “Thank you so much! We’re more than happy to wait, aren’t we?” 

Nonplussed, Blanca simply nodded, fixing his expression in a vague smile. He wasn’t sure if it was polite or merely apologetic. The poor waiter had a stunned look one might expect of a man foolish enough to stare straight at the sun, wandering away towards the beds and conversing briefly with a passing coworker. 

Leaning over to Ash, Blanca remarked deadpan, “I have no idea how you fool anyone with that.” 

Ash gave a coquettish wink, gazing up at Blanca under his lashes. “Do you not find me charming, _sweetheart_?”

“You talk like a street rat. Your charms don't work on me.” 

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my mouth, Blanca. One would think you’re hinting at something.” 

“That’s the second time you’ve twisted my words, Aslan. One would think you’re asking for something.” 

The use of his proper name bore enough weight to Blanca’s words to give Ash pause. The fae levity in his body language bled away to something more human as he sighed and replied rather cryptically, _“You_ _damn well know that I can’t.”_

Before Blanca could ask what he meant, the waiter came bustling back to the podium and announced breathlessly, “Seating has been arranged, sirs. Please follow me.” 

The pair trailed behind him, and Blanca couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride at the curious, and sometimes jealous, stares that followed them as they walk to the coveted area. The pair settled themselves in, and Blanca knew at that moment that he was ruined for traditional dining from that moment onward. It was like sitting on a cloud. Next to the bed were two low tables - judging from the height, they were meant to be placed over one’s lap. 

Once Blanca and Ash had situated themselves, the waiter handed each a menu and said, “Your waiter will be here shortly. Please enjoy your meal.” 

Gazing at Ash a touch longer than necessary, the young man pushed his glasses up his nose in a way that seemed more a nervous tic than anything else. He dipped over in a small bow before turning on his heel and scurrying back to the front of the restaurant. 

“Seemed like he couldn’t leave fast enough, could he?” Ash quipped, eyes following the poor man like a cat tracking a mouse. 

Blanca made a disapproving sound in lieu of raising to Ash’s bait, opting instead to open the menu to peruse the drinks. 

“Did you just click your tongue at me?” 

“Depends,” Blanca mused, keeping his eyes on the laminated pages. “Are you done baiting me with double entendres?” 

Ash threw him a sour look before opening his own menu. “What’s with the attitude? It’s never bothered you before.” 

“It grows tiresome when banter replaces meaningful discussion. Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re trying to gauge my reaction, or a cat playing with its food.” 

His thoughts were interrupted by a petite woman in the corner of his eye, who raised her hand with a polite wave to grab their attention. Judging by her attire and the small notepad in her hands, she must have been their waitress. 

“Welcome to The Screaming Eagle. My name is Evelyna, and I’ll be your server for the evening. Can I start you gentlemen off with something to drink? Do you have any questions about our menu?” 

“I already know what I’d like to order,” Blanca replied with a disarming smile - as expected, she seemed to visibly relax at his own casual demeanor. Turning to Ash, he added, “What about you?” 

“You go first. I’ll have a decision by the time you’re done ordering,” Ash said, still scanning the pages. 

“Very well. I’ll have the pan-fried lamb rack, with a glass of La Croix du Roy if you have that.” 

“An excellent choice. And you, young sir?” 

Pointing to the items in question, Ash replied, “Can I just have the mixed salad? Though if you can toss extra grapes in that, that’d be great.” 

The waitress nodding, jotting down his order. “Sure. And to drink?” 

“ _Ummm_ … just water will be fine.” 

“Of course. I’ll have your orders in a moment.” She inclined her head, drawing the sheers closed, before heading over to the kitchen. 

Once she was out of earshot, Blanca cast a long glance at him and asked, “This was supposed to be a chance for you to indulge. Is that going to be enough?” 

Ash lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug. “I’d much rather have a salad than a heavy steak.” He seemed like he wanted to say more, settling for gnawing on his lip - as though unsure if he wanted to broach the next topic. Blanca could already take a guess at what it was. 

“I understand that you’re trying to find your comfort level, and you already made great strides,” the older man started, crossing his arms behind his head as he settled deeper into the bed. “But there’s a reason I haven’t crossed certain lines, despite my belief that it would be something both of us desire.” 

“I wouldn’t have followed you to the Caribbean if I didn’t want something substantial, Sergei,” Ash answered. Hearing his true name in such warm tones sent a spark of electricity down Blanca’s spine. “Those bastards might have damaged some parts of me, but I’m not broken. I still _feel_ , I still _want_. Whatever I feel towards you are my own desires, not something vile thing they’ve planted into me. I’m not scared of them like I used to be.” 

“When your words and actions contradict one another, consistently, it makes it hard to truly know what it is you wish for. Sometimes I have no clue what you want me to do, or what you _think_ you want me to do. The possibility that I’ll make the wrong choice is paralyzing.” 

_“You wouldn’t hurt me, solntse,”_ Ash answered, his lilting Russian suffused with a warmth that made Blanca’s chest ache - only one person had ever spoken to him so sweetly. Ash all but draped himself over Blanca, reaching to cup the older mans’ face gently between his palms. 

It was rare for Ash to initiate touch - especially a gesture so intimate. 

_“When those men touched me, it was like being shackled with thorns. But when I think of those things with you…. I feel like a kid running down a hill. It feels like freedom. The word_ _‘pleasure’_ _actually means what it should.”_

_“ And part of that is honest communication. Please… stop retreating behind suggestion and speak what you want freely. I already told you: I’d would give you the stars if you wanted them - all you need to do is ask.”_

A very soft, quiet clearing of the throat interrupted the spell that had fallen over them. Glancing over Ash’s shoulder, he saw their waitress balancing two silver trays on each hand, with another waiter just behind her holding a glass and bottle of wine. She offered them an apologetic smile and explained, “I didn’t want to intrude, but I imagine you’d like to enjoy your meals while they’re fresh.” 

“Yes, yes, of course,” Blanca answered. “My apologies.” Ash murmured something under his breath as he slid off Blanca and into his prior spot at his side. Though Blanca wouldn’t quite make out the words, the apology in them was unmistakable. 

She set down their meals with practiced ease, her partner wordlessly pouring Blanca’s wine with inordinate focus. Unlike their waitress, he seemed determined to avoid their attention at all costs. Seeming to sense his discomfort, she added with a conspiratorial wink, “A lot of couples come here for their honeymoon. It’s only to be expected that its charms tend to rub off on people. Enjoy your meal, sirs.” 

With that, she gave another polite bow and gestured for her companion to come with her. His relief palpable, he nearly tripped over himself to follow. 

Blanca watched this exchange with a small smirk and gave Ash’s hand a light squeeze.

“We seem to have made a habit of making the wait staff uncomfortable,” he mused, mock innocence in his tone. He had been in the Caribbean enough to know that affection between two men was still considered taboo in some corners of the islands. 

The stern line in Ash’s brow - no doubt due to his own embarrassment - smoothed over as the younger man let out a small laugh. “Maybe he was jealous,” Ash answered. “I have yet to see someone that hasn’t fallen for your charms.”

“Even you? Others would likely believe it, I’m sure. Why else would one drop everything to live with an old war hound?” 

Blanca could have slapped himself the second it slipped out - that was one insecurity he’d never wished to articulate. He didn’t question that Ash was intelligent and fully capable of making his own decisions… but even so. At times he felt like a dreaming man that stubbornly refused to heed the warning signs around him. He felt a visceral kind of dread that he might awaken, knowing that bubble of happiness would pop the second he opened his eyes.

_What if, what if…_

Ash bit his lip for a moment, again seeming to debate with himself - Blanca felt that he could see the cogs working on the younger man’s head if he only stared hard enough. 

Clearing his throat theatrically, Ash replied with a hint of a British accent, “And was Mr. Varishikov now ugly in my eyes? No, reader: gratitude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial, made his face the object I best liked to see; his presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire. Yet I had not forgotten his faults: indeed, I _could_ not, for he brought them frequently before me.”

Blanca’s lips parted in surprise, his own throat burning as he tried not to let his emotions spill over in the middle of a restaurant. 

“I don’t think I ever said which of the sisters it was,” Blanca answered instead, voice thick with emotion.

“I snuck a peak in the car. Besides, I always did like Jane the best. She was the easiest to understand. How could I not, when I had my own Rochester to deal with?” 

Blanca laughed bitterly. “Ah, so now I’m no longer charming, but a ruin of a man?”

“You’ve never needed to charm me because I know exactly who you are. If I didn’t like who that man was, I wouldn’t have followed him out here. I’m fairly sure plenty would consider me not a ruin but _ruined_ , but that’s never bothered you.”

“Because you’re _not_ ruined, _kotyonok._ I only offer what you want me to give. It’s not because you’re ‘ruined’ but because you deserve to be treated with kindness.” 

On the surface, the smile that Ash flashed at him was mischievous, the grin of a succubus. But beneath, Blanca could see the hesitation fluttering just beneath the surface. His own heart rate picked up at the implications, but he dared not let it show on his face.

“You said you would pluck the stars from the sky if I asked you to,” Ash began, curiously, as though dipping his toes into the waters on the shore. It seemed he couldn’t see any proverbial storm clouds, though he still seemed wary of potential thunder rolling across the horizon.

But the fact that he said so in _English_ was reassuring in a way that Blanca couldn’t quite articulate. Between Ash’s stubborn refusal to discuss his feelings in English, and lifelong habit of hiding behind others’ words when he did, there was something endearingly _vulnerable_ about Ash speaking without his usual filters. It was far easier to be straightforward in a second language, easier to claim it was due to a lack of vagueness granted by navigating in one’s mother tongue.

“I meant every word of it,” Blanca replied, running a hand along the curve of Ash’s jaw. He kept it there, enjoying the way Ash seemed to bask in rather than recoil from his touch. Testing the waters, he moved to cup the back of Ash’s head, threading his fingers lightly through the younger man’s hair. The strength of his grip was more performative, lest Ash feel caged in. But his boldness was rewarded by Ash shivering ever so slightly… though the flutter of his lashes suggested it was not from disgust but pleasure. 

He imagined himself walking past Ash into deeper waters before turning back, offering a reassuring hand for Ash to follow. 

“Though you’ll have to forgive me if that particular task is not as instantaneous as others,” Blanca joked, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m only human, after all.” 

Ash rolled his eyes fondly. “I wouldn’t ask anything more from you. Except…”

Another pause, another moment taken to gather his thoughts. Blanca remained silent, letting Ash collect whatever it was he needed. 

“Except… a k-kiss, maybe.”

Blanca gave him a teasing peck on the tip of his nose. “Is that all? Just a kiss?”

A childish wrinkle of the nose, as though Blanca had just blown a raspberry. “Not like that.” 

Blanca leaned in, their lips mere inches apart. He heard the tiny intake of breath as Ash waited, the way Ash seemed to lean to him like a flower to the sun. Indeed, Blanca wasn’t sure that Ash quite realized just how wonderfully honest his body language was. 

Blanca settled for teasing, adding much-needed levity to what he could imagine felt like an impossible thing for Ash to articulate. “No?”

Ash’s eyes flicked towards Blanca’s lips with a peculiar kind of reluctance. “I… I want you to kiss me. Like you mean it." 

It felt like a dam had broken in Blanca. He brought their lips together, tugging lightly at his hair to change the angle and deepen the kiss… and nearly groaned at the way Ash sighed with bliss, like a parched man offered water. Ash’s mouth against his was warm and demanding, almost desperate if the hands clutching at Blanca’s shirt were any indication. 

Blanca grasps one of Ash’s hands with his own, lacing their fingers together. He can feel the way it causes Ash to smile, coaxing a soft sound of content from the younger man’s throat. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Ash murmurs dreamily. “Even dreamed of it.” 

“Have I met your expectations?” 

Offering Blanca a cheeky grin, Ash replied, “Not sure. I might need another just to be sure.” 

“You can have as many as you’d like.” 

**Author's Note:**

> * _kotyonok_ : a pet name meaning "kitten"  
> * _khalyava_ : one of those "untranslatable" concepts, but essentially think about the idea of a "freebie" and "getting something for nothing". However, there's a different kind of flavor to it. The difference is that one usually obtains it without any particular effort, and you're not typically entitled to it.  
> * _khalyavnik_ : the recipient of a "khalyava".  
> * _solntse_ : an endearing term meaning "sun", it suggests that your lover brings you the same happiness as a sunny day.
> 
> Also.... Jane Eyre. It's been a few years (read: a decade) since I've read it in full, but it clearly left an impression me. Something about Jane and Mr. Rochester's dynamic reminds me a bit of Ash and Blanca.


End file.
